The Simple Things
by Your Angel of Music
Summary: A series of ficlets written in response to the Domesticity Meme. Written in celebration of the little things that made Chryed so special.
1. Big SpoonLittle Spoon

**Title:** The Simple Things  
**Author:** MercuryPheonix (Your Angel of Music)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Christian/Syed  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** A series of ficlets written in response to the Domesticity Meme. Written in celebration of the little things that made Chryed so special.

A/N: Basically, this is a series of questions I've seen on tumblr that you can answer for the couples that you ship. I've developed these answers into ficlets for you. I hope you enjoy!

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**1. Who is the big spoon/little spoon?**

Christian is the big spoon. Syed is the little spoon.

The circumstances don't matter. If they crawl into bed, eyelids heavy with sleep after another night of struggling with a teething Yasmin; if they collapse, tangled in the sheets with the echoes of breath and sweat pulsing through the air; if it's just quiet, serene, a moment of deep connection that they often lose in the hustle and bustle of their everyday lives – whatever happens, whatever has happened, Syed immediately shifts to his side, tugging Christian's arm around his waist as knees come up to tuck warmly behind his own.

They fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Christian's warm chest pressed against the smooth planes of Syed's back. The gentle hiss or quiet rasp of breath dancing through the hairs at the nape of Syed's neck. A firm hand, fingers spread out against Syed's stomach, a second coming up to blanket Christian's knuckles with his own. It's like a dance that they never needed to rehearse. A series of movements, folding together, thrumming on instinct that feels as old as the sky.

But the big spoon/little spoon dynamic shifts as the night draws on. It's as though Christian's protective veneer slips with unconsciousness; his body and limbs and soul seeking a comfort that, sometimes, he is afraid to ask for in the light of day.

Often Syed wakes on his back to find an arm sprawled across his torso, snaking up his trunk to end with a lightly curled fist on his sternum. It's not threatening, but clutching; rested next to a heavy head, as if Christian's dreams could only run to the cadence of Syed's heartbeat. And, just for that moment before the sun crashes through the blinds, Syed smiles – shifting slightly to better balance the weight of the man half-sprawled on top of him, carding fingers through short hair, letting the leg propped on his knee curl comfortably around his own as Christian curls in as tightly, as intimately, and as closely as he can without climbing into his skin.

So Christian's the big spoon. And Syed is the little spoon.

But, in the early hours of the morning, Syed knows they are something else.

Christian is the koala. And Syed is his tree.

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_I love Chryed so much. So this is a tribute to them. They may be leaving soon. But their impact will never leave. _


	2. Favourite Non Sexual Activity

**Title:** The Simple Things  
**Author:** MercuryPheonix (Your Angel of Music)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Christian/Syed  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** A series of ficlets written in response to the Domesticity Meme. Written in celebration of the little things that made Chryed so special.

A/N: Basically, this is a series of questions I've seen on tumblr that you can answer for the couples that you ship. I've developed these answers into ficlets for you. I hope you enjoy!

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**2. What is their favourite non-sexual activity?**

On first thought, they'd probably say something terribly clichéd – like curling up in front of a film, waking up in each other's arms, coming home from work to be greeted with one another's tired smiles or maybe –

-but, in all truth, they know that it's none of these things. That's not to say that they don't they relish every second of these moments; a year of lies and hell urges them to savour every pulse of serenity that life flings their way. But there's something else that means more to them.

Every so often - when the world falls into place and they find themselves home at the same time, awake enough to think and alone together –they turn to the kitchen and they cook.

It's never pre-arranged or pencilled into the diary as once-weekly thing. It just happens. It's a natural thing, perhaps subconsciously born from the place where it all started. After all, they fell in love over a bubbling pot; the steaming, pungent environment of the kitchen is where it began, where a seed grew to something more, where they cried and laughed and argued and hungrily devoured every second they could legitimately be together without the lies, the guilt and the pain.

But they try not to overanalyse it.

They're both there, and there are ingredients that need to be made into food, and it _works_.

It comes together like a slightly awkward, not-quite-flowing, beautifully uncoordinated dance. Syed's hand brushing over Christian's arm as he switches on the hob; their feet tangling momentarily as they jerk around one another; the tug of fingers as one pulls the other's forearm away from the spitting saucepan; Christian's gentle kiss to Syed's neck as he reaches around him for the five spice; a steaming spoon lifted to lips; _what do you think, is this right, I don't know, you try it…_

As they eat, they laugh a little at their own incompetence – the failures of the flavouring, the charcoal edge of the meat, the sogginess of the rice – but the food settles with a warm glow in their stomach. Because this – this alone – belongs to them. However flawed it is, they created it; bumping along together to create something that, although not quite perfect, works in the only way that matters.

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_Many thanks to Elphie and Chiccky for going through ideas with me for this series. We all had the same answers to each meme questions, from which we deduced that we know Chryed better than EE does. And on that not-very-surprising revelation, I hope you enjoyed the ficlet!_


	3. Hot Water

**Title:** The Simple Things  
**Author:** MercuryPheonix (Your Angel of Music)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Christian/Syed  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** A series of ficlets written in response to the Domesticity Meme. Written in celebration of the little things that made Chryed so special.

A/N: Basically, this is a series of questions I've seen on tumblr that you can answer for the couples that you ship. I've developed these answers into ficlets for you. I hope you enjoy!

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**3. Who uses all of the hot water?**

Christian does. And it drives Syed crazy.

He's lost count of the number of times he's hovered in the hallway, tapping his fingers impatiently on the towel looped over his arm and listening to the warbled strains of Christian's voice (belting out as if he's standing in the smoky haze of a stage and not the steam of their poky shower cubicle). It drives him insane – not necessarily because he finds it annoying, but because he's constantly torn between sternly telling him to hurry up and stifling the kind of giggle that he hasn't emitted since he was about four years old.

At the beginning of their relationship – and in those few weeks between their reconciliation and Christian jetting off to the canaries, which had felt like a rebirth of that relationship – Syed would have checked his watch, let out a sigh, and stalked into the shower behind him. It had been fun, and exciting, grappling at bare wet flesh under the pretence of speeding up the whole process. He maintained, whatever inevitably happened in the steam, that it was still quicker than waiting for Christian to step out of the shower of his own free will, _and _it meant he got hot water too.

But, these days, he'll sit in the kitchen and feed Yasmin her breakfast as he waits for the last strangled notes to dissipate. Maybe it's a sad sign of domesticity or age, but Syed likes to think that it's sensible. After all, the awkward bumps and painful bruises may have been a testament to a playful, carefree passion, but they hurt for a lot longer than the passion could cover them up. And the last time Christian ended up in A&E with a soapy gash to the back of his head, they'd made the silent decision that that passion would be contained to rooms that did not have slippery surfaces or inconveniently placed sinks.

Syed doesn't mind. In fact, a part of him quite likes the mundanity of it all.

So when a Christian finally steps into the room , Syed will (tactfully ignoring the low slung towel and the droplets of water still clinging to Christian's skin) turn from the task at hand, roll his eyes dramatically, and make a few choice comments about bad singing, shoddy timekeeping and the never-ending annoyance of being forced to take cold showers.

After all, he always knows he'll get a slightly soggy kiss to warm him up.

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_I thought this one should be more playful. I hope it did it's job! Thank you for reading!_


	4. Nicknames

**Title:** The Simple Things  
**Author:** MercuryPheonix (Your Angel of Music)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Christian/Syed  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** A series of ficlets written in response to the Domesticity Meme. Written in celebration of the little things that made Chryed so special.

A/N: Basically, this is a series of questions I've seen on tumblr that you can answer for the couples that you ship. I've developed these answers into ficlets for you. I hope you enjoy!

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**4. Do they have nicknames for each other?**

'**Sy'**

It was never something that Christian planned, or suggested, or tentatively tested out in conversation – and, to be honest, Syed probably couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when the 'ed' was dropped and the first syllable of his name began to fall, snug and alone, from Christian's lips.

All he knew was that, once he did realise, he loved it.

No one had ever called him 'Sy' before. A few people had tried, but he'd shot them down with a look that said 'is two syllables really that hard for you?' But with Christian – it just felt so natural, so affectionate, this one, singular sound that somehow summed up everything he was, everything they were, and everything that he wanted to be.

Because sometimes he didn't want to be Syed: Number One Son, Golden Boy, Mr Crash 'n' Burn who could never live up to the expectations his family unconsciously heaped upon him.

Sometimes, he was just 'Sy': the man Christian loved, the man who didn't need more than one syllable to his name, the man who was happy, and here, and, in this moment, proud of the little things that defined him.

It was simplicity. But it was also love. It was a name that Christian had claimed as his own, even as he claimed Syed as his own; it still sent a warm glow through Syed's stomach, a slight leaping in his heart, every time he heard it dance on the tip of Christian's tongue. It was something that was theirs. Something that was his, and yet not his at all, because it was Christian's - just like every other part of Syed's soul.

And, although other people had picked up on the nickname, no one ever said it quite like Christian.

'**Clarkey'**

The annoying thing about Christian's name, he'd learnt many years ago, was that the one shortening people could be bothered to think of was a name that didn't suit him.

As a result, he'd never really had a nickname – 'stud', 'sexy', and occasionally 'oi you' definitely didn't count – but it hadn't really ever bothered him. He'd never allowed himself to get that close to anyone; not really, not since he broke off contact with his mother; but, as time had passed and he'd found himself getting older, and unfortunately wiser, he'd wanted nothing more than for someone to care enough to give him one.

And then Syed had happened.

The first time Syed had unwisely tried out 'Chris', they'd been in bed. As soon as the word fell from Syed's lips, Christian had stopped abruptly - stilling with one of Syed's legs propped on his shoulder, staring down at the vaguely man-shaped mess of heaving flesh beneath him and totally ignoring the indignant whine of 'why have you stopped?'. He'd refused to budge until he'd gotten Syed to swear on everything that had ever been precious to him that he would never say it again; he'd almost gone as far as a signed contract, but Syed had kicked him in the head with the foot that still rested on his shoulder and glared until Christian got back to the task in hand.

They'd filtered through several others as time had passed, to no avail. And then one day, in the middle of the tiniest of insignificants tiffs, Syed had closed his eyes and breathed out an annoyed '_Clarkey_' like an annoyed parent berating a tiresome child – and it had stuck. Just like that.

And Christian wouldn't have it any other way.

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_Okay, so this one is further down the list of the meme, but I was desperate to do it. I hope you enjoyed! As always, your comments are encouraged and welcomed - I'd love to know what you think of these little drabbles I knock out at three in the morning! Thank you for reading. _


End file.
